Divide
by Luna Rapunzel
Summary: There's a river in Veronaville, that quaint little town on the east coast of SimNation, only Veronaville isn't really quaint and the river splits it right down the middle. xx The Sims 2, Goneril Capp. For the RLt's Outside the Box collaboration.


**Divide**

There's a river in Veronaville, that quaint little town on the east coast of SimNation, only Veronaville isn't really quaint and the river splits it right down the middle. It's one of those towns where half the population shares the same last name, only there are two founding families here in Veronaville, the Capps and the Montys—Montys to the east and Capps to the west—and the river divides them, and half of each family is dead.

The Capps have been in disarray for a while now, ever since Caliban and Cordelia died in that godawful fire, the one people don't talk about anymore. Cordelia's sister Goneril should know-Cordelia was the heiress, and Goneril was the spare, only Cordelia had enough time to pop out three kids before she kicked the bucket, so Goneril wasn't going to be needed after all. There were a few months of chaos and mourning and anticipation when they thought the heiress title might be Goneril's after all, and oh, how Goneril _wanted_ that title, wanted her parents to whisk her away to Capp Manor and away from this life, away from the daughter she didn't want and the husband who loved that daughter more than he ever loved her. Cordelia had always been the heiress, and Goneril had always been the spare, and for five precious months of deliberation Goneril had _believed_ she'd be the heiress now-but they loved Cordelia more, they'd always loved Cordelia more, so the honor went to Goneril's bratty little niece Juliet instead.

Cordelia was pretty and flighty and unafraid to rebel against Consort. He hadn't thought her smart enough to go to college, instead offering her a junior executive position at the company and enough shares for a seat on its board of trustees; she took the shares but also enough of his money to enroll at Sim State University against his will. Within a semester, she'd landed herself on probation and nearly flunked out once or twice, but Cordelia pulled off a degree in Economics and enough smarts to start out four years later as a senior manager.

The board didn't like her. Goneril had already been working for the company at the time; she'd graduated high school two years after Cordelia, skipping college and hiring in straightaway like her father wanted (she was always doing what her father wanted, always always always)-she'd already been working for the company, so she'd been there on Cordelia's first day, that fateful board meeting when all her sister's ideas embarrassed the family name. And probably, if it were Goneril, Consort would have been _so_ angry, would have had half a mind to fire her right then and there, but it wasn't Goneril, was it, it was Cordelia, Mother's favorite daughter and the heiress to the Capp family fortune, so Consort gritted his teeth and shot down her suggestions and reminded himself that Cordelia could do no wrong.

The board liked Goneril better, but Consort and Contessa _loved_ Cordelia better-and so even though Cordelia never quite got around to inheriting anything, it was her bloodline, not Goneril's, that secured the right to the manor and the money and the company. Goneril should have known. She should have.

But for a few months of chaos, she'd let herself believe otherwise.

Goneril had just the one daughter then, Miranda, a spunky little toddler with a heart of gold, but Goneril knew they couldn't have that. She has three more kids now, Hal and Desdemona and Ariel, and the three of them are young, but she's squashed all the spunk and the heart out of Miranda, and Goneril isn't quite sure whether she should be proud or ashamed.

She's spent years at it, destroying Miranda, the daughter who was _so close_ to being in Juliet's place, and now Juliet is missing and Goneril's father is dead. Her mother, Contessa, has been dead for a while now, but nobody cared when Contessa crossed over; Consort's the one who counts, because he's CEO of the company. Nobody knows what the company sells, exactly, or how long it's been around, but it's Consort's now-at least, it was until now. He's been dead for a couple of months, and Goneril was acting in his place while they were looking for the will, and everything is still unclear even now that they've found it because he left the company to Juliet and Juliet is missing. They think it'll go to Juliet's sister, Hermia, now, but Hermia's still in school anyway, so that doesn't do them any good, now, does it?

The only clear bit is Consort's directive that, until Juliet (Hermia?) is of age, the company's CEO won't be Goneril. It'll be Goneril's other sister, the one who's still alive-Regan.

Regan's a lot like Cordelia was, Goneril remembers, only Regan is uglier and wittier and only third in line to the fortune, third best, can't afford to play games. She went to university, too, but Regan was smart enough to earn their father's blessing and receive a full scholarship to Académie Le Tour for Economics, not that the Capps needed any financial aid, oh, no, not with the empire that Consort had built, and she graduated summa cum laude and Consort hired her fresh out of college as a vice president, and Goneril should have known that Consort would love Regan better one day, only everything had seemed a lot more muddled before the deaths and disappearances, Cordelia and Caliban and Contessa and Consort and Juliet. In retrospect, it shouldn't have seemed so muddled, should have been obvious at the time. Regan was the smart one-maybe not as smart as Kent, but Consort didn't love him a bit, Kent didn't count-so when Regan spoke up on the job, the comments she made weren't stupid like Cordelia's but dangerous, noble and charitable and directly opposed to Consort's mission statement of greed.

Before today, Goneril believed that Consort resented Regan for it, but it seems he didn't resent her at all. Was it a game to him, the banter back and forth at all those board meetings? Goneril always thought Regan was foolish to fight back, but apparently, she was wrong. Goneril always thought that Consort loved _her_ better, maybe not best but at least more than Regan, because she was practical and obedient and did what she was told-everyone thought that Consort loved her better, trusted her better. She was the interim CEO until they recovered Consort's will, wasn't she? But now they've found the will and learned that he wanted to give the company to Regan, at least until Hermia was old enough to take over.

Goneril thought that Consort had loved her, but it seems she was wrong to be so presumptuous. After all, Cordelia was always the heiress; Goneril was only the spare.

There's a river in Veronaville that splits it right down the middle, Montys to the east and Capps to the west. There's a good reason, or maybe it's a bad one, why Patrizio Monty packed up his family and moved his ranch east of the river years ago, but it's a reason people don't talk about anymore, like how they don't talk about the fire that killed Cordelia and Caliban, or the famine that killed Claudio and Olivia Monty, or whatever the hell it was that killed Hero Monty-Goneril doesn't think they'll ever know. There are a lot of things that people don't talk about in Veronaville, they just _know_ them-they just _know_ better than to think the Capps and the Montys will ever reconcile.

There's a river in Veronaville that splits the Capps and the Montys right down the middle, but sometimes, Goneril wonders whether the real rift is between the families or within them.

xx

Miranda is her own boss, nobody's protege. She's a responsible enough kid; she makes some decisions that Goneril doesn't like, but she's doing well in a part-time position at the company, getting A's in school, planning to major in Literature at SSU as soon as she gets her high school diploma. With her accomplishments, though, come arrogance and a sense of entitlement, and she's long stopped listening to a word her parents tell her. Miranda is her own boss, and sometimes Goneril wonders if it's all her fault, if all those years of rejecting her children pushed Miranda to the breaking point.

"I'm going out with Mercutio Monty," Miranda told her one night, maybe a month or two ago, fixing her hair in the living room mirror as Goneril studies a game of chess against herself.

_Going out_-Goneril knew what that meant, didn't expect Miranda to come home that night. "Just as long as you break his heart in the end," she bargained, not really joking. Her daughter didn't answer, and Goneril took that to mean that she plans to follow the advice.

Miranda is nobody's protege, but sometimes Goneril wonders if she taught her daughter more than either of them realized.

xx

This is life after Cordelia, life after Consort, life after Goneril had any shot at inheriting the family fortune. She has a big house and knows the password to the Capp bank account, but it isn't the Capp Manor; it isn't Juliet's life-Hermia's life, now. This is life after any hopes that the Capps would love her as much as she loved the Capps; now she's just a bitter, washed-up has-been with a name like _gonorrhea_ who's been mooching off her parents for too long, and it has to end here, before she gets old and crotchety and more miserable than she already is, if that's possible. She's trying something new; she's turning over a new leaf; she's letting it go. What else can she do?

Life doesn't stop for a missing niece and a surprising CEO appointment; life doesn't stop, but life can change. Goneril can _change_.

Goneril does the one thing she doesn't know how to do: she goes to Kent.

Kent is the last of her siblings, the boy, the baby of the family-only he's more of a black sheep than an adored only son. He did Physics at Le Tour and took a job after graduation as a government researcher, but he'd quit over political differences with his department and is living with Regan and her husband, Cornwall, these days, working entry-level at the local hospital as he searches for better work. He's never worked at the company a day in his life; his best friend is Bianca Monty (yes, _that_ Bianca, the one the Capps aren't supposed to get along with); rumor has it he's gay, too, but Goneril never bothered to ask. There are things you just don't talk about in the Capp family, and sexuality is one of them.

"So you've seen the fallacy in Consort's parenting," says Kent kindly. They're at Regan's place for coffee-Regan and Cornwall are working, and Goneril took a vacation day. She sure as hell needs one right about now. "I'm surprised it took until after he died for his party line to stop working. It's not too bad, you know, living on the outside of Consort's good graces-the best he has to offer is money, anyway, and he doesn't even know how to give _that_ out without divvying it up unevenly and making everybody feel unloved in the end."

"I guess that means I'm free from the tyranny, then," says Goneril dryly. She's not joking, necessarily-she isn't very good at telling jokes.

Either way, Kent laughs at this, setting two steaming mugs of cappuccino on the table. "How is life on the inside, anyway? How's Tybalt?"

Tybalt is Juliet and Hermia's older brother and the only one of the Capp grandchildren who's not on speaking terms with Kent. Consort lives on the most through Tybalt-perhaps through Tybalt alone, now that Goneril's going soft. "He's... you know how he is. He got his acceptance to Le Tour just last week; he says he's going to declare Economics as his major."

"No surprises there," Kent says genially.

"What about you? I trust Regan and Cornwall are well?"

"Cornwall's still an insufferable ass," says Kent-the pair of them never got along. Goneril isn't his biggest fan, either, and isn't even sure that he and Regan have ever been in love-but they seem to work well together as business partners, at least, and must be good enough friends that Regan thinks he's worth keeping around. Then again, who is Goneril to talk? Just look at her own marriage to Albany. "Regan's all right. She's been busy like you wouldn't believe at the company, adjusting to her new position. She says she's worried about how you're taking it; it was a shock, that Consort made her CEO over you..."

"I'm fine," Goneril says, because she will be. "Still no news of Juliet?"

Shaking his head, Kent replies, "Neither she nor Romeo," Romeo being the Monty heir.

It was all too suspicious, the heirs of both families vanishing on the same night. "Do you believe what they're saying these days about them-that they were dating and decided to run away together? It doesn't sound like Juliet, but..."

There's the slightest of pauses before Kent says, "I don't know. I get the feeling there's more truth to the rumors than you would expect... every time it comes up in conversation with me and the kids, it seems like they're trying a little too hard to deny it."

It's surprisingly nice, talking to Kent-a touch awkward, since it's been months since Goneril last showed him a shred of interest or affection, but nice. They've hit an uncomfortable patch in the conversation, sipping their coffee and not really talking, and because she's trying something new these days, she brings it up. "Kent, are you gay?"

"Yes," he says easily, either completely unfazed or doing a damn good job of masking his confusion. "How'd you guess?"

Goneril laughs-another first for her. "It was easy to figure out; bringing it up was the hard part."

"That does tend to happen a lot in our family," Kent agrees mildly. "But I don't buy into it. Listen, Goneril, if you ever need to talk, just call me, all right?"

"I just might take you up on that one day," says Goneril with a hesitant little smile. "Goodbye, Kent."

"I'll be seeing you," he says back at her, seeing her out.

She's trying something new; she's turning over a new leaf. She takes it slow, starts out with the little things-potty training Ariel, having Kent over for coffee, smiling at Bianca Monty when she passes her in the market (this family feud has been going on long enough). Goneril used to keep to herself, used to give strangers and Montys alike the cold shoulder, resent her husband and children, avoid keeping ties with the extended family, save for Tybalt and Regan. Not anymore.

Albany doesn't know what's gotten into her. He's a good father, Albany, maybe even a good man, but he doesn't love her, and she doesn't know anymore whether she loves him. "Kent told me you've been getting along better with Bianca Monty these days," he says over an early pancake breakfast one morning.

It seems they're always eating or parenting or trying to sleep when they talk these days, like their marriage has been reduced to cooking and cleaning and domestic routine. "We're not friends," she says tiredly-she's been tired a lot lately since Consort died. She thinks she's been tired her whole life. "But that's no reason not to be cordial around her, around any of the Montys, for that matter. We're not children squabbling on the playground, Albany."

"You shouldn't trust her," says Albany indifferently. "She's a Monty; you know what that means, you know what her father is like-"

"She isn't _Patrizio_, Albany," Goneril interrupts, setting down her fork. "And I'm not Consort. Just because they had their differences doesn't mean that we ought to keep the feud alive in generations to come."

"This just isn't like you," Albany maintains, frowning, discounting her reasoning.

Goneril retorts, "Times change. People change, Albany, people _die_-look at Cordelia and Caliban, look at Claudio and Olivia, look at Hero. The police may have written them off as accidental deaths, but everybody knows that they're nothing more than Consort and Patrizio's casualties. Look at Juliet and Romeo! God knows what the rest of their lives will be like, whether they're even still alive, and they're just _kids_, Albany, they're just fifteen-year-old _kids_, and it's all our faults!"

"Come now, Goneril-"

Snappy and bitter, she flounces out of the kitchen and into the bathroom to wash up before work. Maybe she's changed, but she's starting to think that she's had the wrong husband all along.

xx

One night, they go out-Regan and Cornwall, Goneril and Albany. Kent comes over for the night to babysit with Miranda, and they get out of the house, double date, driving all the way to downtown SimCity for the night.

Regan and Cornwall may not be in love, but Regan and Cornwall are happy-have settled into a routine of respect and companionship that seems to make each other just enough for a satisfying marriage. Regan and Cornwall are happy; Goneril and Albany are not.

She comes home and crawls into bed with the husband she doesn't want and tells him she'd like to get a divorce.

She's trying something new.

The custody battle is the easy part. Albany's cooking dinner one room over the next night, and Goneril's practicing the presentation she's giving to the board tomorrow, and he calls through the doorway as she's pausing for breath, "I want to keep the kids."

She's a little taken aback that he's bringing it up to her like this, but then, this is their marriage, isn't it? They don't fight outright; their fundamental problems are buried deep under diaper changes and homework help and spaghetti dinners. "Miranda stays with me," says Goneril simply, watching him in the corner of the mirror she's using to prepare. Shrugging, Albany stirs the pot and seems to accept it.

Money is harder to settle: Goneril made and still makes it, but if Albany will be the caretaker of two children and a toddler to Goneril's one nearly-grown teen, he's the one in need. Goneril's not happy with the final arrangement, leaving Albany the house and paying half of his kids' expenses, but grudgingly agrees that it's fair.

Money is the hard part, but the custody battle is easy. Though she doesn't like to admit it, Goneril loves all her children-but if Albany's demanding all of them and she only thinks she can afford to ask for one, it's Miranda. At the very least, if Goneril is that awful of a mother, it'll only be a couple more years before Miranda can live on her own-beyond that, though, it's Miranda who's suffered the most from Goneril's poor parenting, and if she's serious about this whole turning over a new leaf business, she probably ought to make amends with the daughter who ought to resent her.

When she breaks the news to Miranda, as expected, she's none too pleased. "I'm not living with you," Miranda says, matter of fact-she's lounging on her bed reading a romance novel, probably something slutty enough that Goneril should be glad she doesn't know what it is. "You can't force me to do it. I've already talked to Uncle Kent about it, and he says he's saved up enough from his job at the hospital to move out of Aunt Regan's house and get a place with me. I can use my savings from the company to pay rent."

Because she hadn't realized that Miranda knew about the divorce yet, let alone was already making alternate living arrangements, it takes Goneril a minute for this to sink in. Before Consort died, Goneril wouldn't have given her a choice, would have gotten a court order or _something_ to ensure Miranda would stay-but then, before Consort died, Goneril never dreamed of filing for divorce in the first place.

Baby steps. A lot has changed since then.

"Miranda," she says patiently, hovering in the doorway. "Albany wants full custody of your siblings, and I agreed to it under the condition that you lived with me."

"Then I guess you're going to have to pick somebody else to inflict your single motherhood upon because I'm not going to be the one to deal with it."

Goneril sighs. "It isn't like that. I... I've always been a lot better at my job than I was at being a mother. Your siblings are still young, and Albany is a good father; if he raises them-"

"Oh, so you think I'm a screw-up and I'm the only one you can live with and not do any more damage to, is that it?" says Miranda, still perfectly calm and composed. She gets that from Goneril-she _learned_ that from Goneril.

"Miranda, I love you," Goneril says. For the first time since Goneril knocked on her door, Miranda looks up from her novel, eyes wide, composure broken. Goneril doesn't tell her children she loves them, she just _doesn't_, until now. "I love you, and I... I've taught you a lot of the wrong things, and I just hoped that it wouldn't be too late for you to give me a chance to change that."

For a moment, Miranda just _stares_ at her, stares and stares and doesn't speak and doesn't blink. Then her eyes steel over, and she answers, "Give it up, Mom, it's not going to happen. Better luck with the next kid you ask."

Goneril doesn't know what to say. Groping at straws, she opens her mouth and surprises herself with what comes out: "Miranda, if you really like Mercutio Monty, be good to him."

She's walking out the door and almost misses Miranda's near-inaudible answer. "Too late for that."

Goneril was wrong-that does seem to be the pattern these days, doesn't it? She was wrong: money is the easy part, and the custody battle is unbearable.

Humiliated, she goes to Albany and asks for Ariel instead. He's reluctant to give her up, but he's a good father and maybe even a good man, and he accepts that it wouldn't be a disaster for a mother to be an influence in the life of her baby girl.

The night before she goes, Albany's babysitting, teaching Ariel to walk in the living room. Goneril gets situated on the couch and flips open a copy of _Business Weekly_ and peers out at them every now and then from above her magazine, just watching, just _hoping_ she can love Ariel as much as Albany already does.

She'll get it right this time, for Ariel and for Miranda.

xx

Goneril makes three phone calls the next day, Ariel on her hip and the weight lifting itself off her chest with every number she dials. Her new house is small-modest, even-and much as it pains her to downsize, she thinks that this will be good for her, for _them_.

She places the first call to Bianca Monty, who picks up on the second ring. "Bianca, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything."

Bianca's not satisfied, but she'll come around-at least, Goneril hopes she will. She came around for Kent, didn't she?

Next on the list is Regan, who doesn't answer. She leaves her resignation from the company on voicemail, knowing Regan will call her back sooner or later to protest, knowing it won't seem to make sense-but Goneril's had a lifetime of looking for fulfillment in all the wrong places, and she's done. She thinks she'll try politics. She's always liked politics, and working for a corrupt family business is all the experience and preparation she'll need.

The last call she makes, and the hardest, is to the Capp Manor. Hermia answers; she asks to speak to Tybalt. He's just like Consort used to be, Tybalt, picking fights with Mercutio Monty and spending every waking minute thinking about the company, the family fortune. But it's never going to be Tybalt's, hard as he tries not to mind. Goneril's been there. He says a lot of things, and she says a lot of things, but all it really boils down to are her parting words to him before she hangs up the phone: "Tybalt, promise me that you'll never do another thing in your life to honor the memories of Consort and Cordelia Capp."

He doesn't promise. She's not sure why she even tried.

xx

There's a river in Veronaville that splits it right down the middle, and nobody can really remember why they're so afraid to cross it.

From now on, Goneril's going to do her part to make that river a little narrower.

xx

**A/N:** Written for the **Outside the Box** collaboration at **The Reviews Lounge, Too**. Check it out!


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